


Birds of a Feather

by mistyautumn



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Written Pre-Dead Men Tell No Tales
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:40:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24308350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistyautumn/pseuds/mistyautumn
Summary: He is trouble and she’s still not always certain whether or not he's telling the truth, and yet somehow Jack Sparrow has become her dearest friend.
Relationships: Jack Sparrow & Elizabeth Swann
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	Birds of a Feather

**Author's Note:**

> Going through some of my old things, I came across this and found I still rather liked it. _Pirates_ is forever one of my favorites; I love these characters and this world. 
> 
> This was originally written in 2012 for a "Secret Sparrow" holiday exchange. I did a little brush up on it, since it's been almost eight years since I wrote it (and I wanted to edge it closer to compliant with the fifth movie), but I was overall still pretty pleased with it. It's meant to take place about two years after _At World's End_. I still think it's a nice idea, though _Dead Men Tell No Tales_ may have nixed it; your mileage may vary.

He drapes a blanket over her shoulders and her nose crinkles just slightly at the scent of rum and sweat and _him_. After a moment she looks up; their eyes meet and she is surprised by what she sees—is it honest and genuine care? She finds herself smiling if only just.  
  
“Now Jack, that doesn’t look a thing like you.”  
  
“Can’t have a King catch a chill now can we, love?” He winks at her and all at once his expression is shrewd and gauging and everything she knows to be _Jack Sparrow_ once more.  
  
“Am I still a King?” She hasn’t had anyone to lead in two years and those days seem both hours and lifetimes removed from her. She has a son now, Henry, who sleeps snug in his bed inside; who knows the pirate captain who sinks down to sit beside her better than his own father; a man he's only met in the stories she’s told him. _Will…_ She misses him so much she swears the ache in her heart is a real and physical thing. Looking to Jack she wonders what he might make of it all; if things will stay this way, or if he'll vanish into another life one day, this island naught but a memory.  
  
He smirks and the way his eyes glitter has nothing to do with reflecting stars. If he knows what she’s thinking he doesn’t let on, staying on the swale of the spoken. “I’d vote for you again if anyone challenged it.”  
  
He is trouble and she’s still not always certain whether or not he's telling the truth, and yet somehow Jack Sparrow has become her dearest friend. When he comes and tells her tales of nobles, navy men, and all his women, she usually rolls her eyes and shakes her head with accusations of exaggeration that he decries to be utter slander, but when he comes with stories of new and fantastical adventures, the likes of which she herself has glimpsed- _lived_ … She listens as raptly as she would have as a child, hanging on every word and imagining every moment.  
  
“You know, your father came a few months ago.” She stretches her shoulders and favors Jack with a sidelong gaze, fighting laughter as his expression swaps between confusion and disbelief and confusion again. “He said to pay his respects to the Pirate King and he made me promise to see to it Henry’s well versed in the Code. He said he'd be checking.” She glances over her shoulder to her son’s window and now she truly smiles.  
  
“He’ll be coming back, then...?” Jack tries to wrap his mind around it, his mouth curdling, his eyes squinting towards the sea as though he expects to see Teague’s sails on the horizon.  
  
“Mm. It’s nice to know I have the full support of the Sparrow clan.” Elizabeth laughs. It feels good to laugh. She leans over and lightly bumps her shoulder to Jack’s; his presence familiar and comforting.  
  
For a while they fall silent, listening to the rolling waves and the chirp and buzz of insects in the evening. Eventually she looks, and he looks, their eyes meeting.  
  
“Jack?”  
  
“Aye, love?” His head cocks lightly to one side and he watches her, waiting. She wonders if he already knows what she’ll say, but she continues anyway.  
  
“Thank you.” The words come softly from her lips, and she takes his hand and squeezes it in hers, feeling his weathered skin and heavy rings. “Thank you for everything.” _For the visits and the stories- for a selfless moment in the pouring rain as he curled her husband’s fingers around a dagger…_  
  
He squeezes back, his rings warm against her skin, and winks at her. “Peas in a pod.”  
  
“Birds of a feather?”  
  
“Devils and blacksheep,”  
  
“And really bad eggs.” She laughs softly and rests her head on his shoulder.  
  
“Drink up me hearties, yo-ho…”  
  
The night grows darker, and he tells her new tales. Her eyelids grown heavy, but there she stays.  
  
Eventually she feels herself drifting off, dreams curling tendrils at the edges of her thoughts… his lips press a kiss into her hair and she smiles softly, a low hum of a familiar song lulling her into sleep.


End file.
